A Christmas Samuel Winchester Once Had
by FromOutside
Summary: "Samuel Winchester watched Declaration of Christmas Peace with his brother. Well, at least Samuel was watching TV, his brother Dean had fallen asleep with a bottle of whiskey in his hand a while ago." Christmas fic, Teen!chesters, outsider POV.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Wow, gods on fanfic gave me an early Christmas present. I thought only an un-betaed version of this existed after some hard drive problems but I found the version with correction by sheer luck just hours ago.

Thank you, my beta, you did awesome work! (Let me know your nick so I can refer properly... My memory is failing me.) I'm sure there are still mistakes but they are all mine :) I'm not operating with my native language in here.

This is something I originally wrote in Finnish before Christmas 2008. That version and my other fics in Finnish can still be found from my other profile, pen name tellie. If you understand Finnish, try that version.

I love SN Christmas eps, the contrast they show. Huge Christmas trees, beautiful decoration, carols playing, and then Sam and Dean singing (badly) the same song to a some random drunk living in a trailer, if my memory serves.

This is my take of the subject and me wanting to to train my skills in fluff... I'm not much of a fluff writer and I think it shows here. I may have overdone a thing or two, _just a little bit_ :P

**Full summary:** "Samuel Winchester watched Declaration of Christmas Peace with his brother. Well, at least Samuel was watching TV, his brother Dean had fallen asleep with a bottle of whiskey in his hand a while ago." Christmas fic, Teen!chesters, outsider POV.

**Time line: **Pre-series. If my math is correct, it is Christmas -97, meaning that Sam is 14, Dean 18.

**Word count:** 3110

**Spoilers:** -

**Disclaimer:** Haha, yeah... If someone really thinks I own Supernatural and get some $ from this... Well, I don't.

* * *

**A Christmas Samuel Winchester Once Had**

It was a Christmas Eve already. The sun had set and twilight was falling, as were large snowflakes, that slowly fell on cars and houses. The town was dimly lit by Christmas lights, here and there a Santa traveled from house to house, bringing joy to well-behaving children. There were scents of honeysuckle, mistletoe and turkey on the air.

In a small dark motel room Samuel Winchester watched Declaration of Christmas Peace with his brother. Well, at least Samuel was watching TV, his brother Dean had fallen asleep with a bottle of whiskey in his hand a while ago. Samuel, however, listened carefully the Pope's words and thought of Christmas time. At times he looked outside, where the flakes still settled silently on the ground. Samuel thought about fried turkeys, big Christmas trees and houses full of beautiful decoration, and could not help but feel his hearth grow heavy. He had little Christmas.

When the image on the old TV screen started to flutter Samuel turned the TV off and moved next to a window, to watch the snow-covered view. Even the motel's messy yard looked pretty and homey, and the city, no doubt, would look as beautiful as if it was from a fairy tale. Oh, if he only dared to...!

"Dean?" Samuel whispered gently. When his brother did not answer Samuel called his name again. When there was still no answer, Samuel shook him gently, but still his brother slept. Encouraged by that, Samuel carefully tiptoed to entryway. He pulled on his jacket, carefully tied his shoelaces, and walked out.

* * *

In the small town's center, Christmas lights were bright and beautiful, and at least as bright were lights that lit up shop windows. Snowing had ceased, the night had turned starry, and the fresh snow creaked under her shoes when Helen Jones was walking home from a school she worked in as a teacher. Helen smiled – she had seen most of the students and their parents at the congregation's singing evening, and everyone had been in such a good mood! After the concert she was offered a ride to home but she decided rather walked.

The city was so very quiet! That wasn't strange, thought, it was getting late and it was a Christmas Eve after all. At the time everyone were at home, with their families or friends, and only Helen's own footprints littered the snow. Or werethere another set of footprints? They were towards her, but then turning to a doorway of a near building.

Strange indeed! Helen knew there was only commercial premises in the house, not a single apartment.

For a while Helen feared she had caught a burglar in the act but when she walked closer she saw a lone, young boy in the doorway. Apparently the boy had not noticed the newcomer - his teeth clattered so badly he hadn't even heard Helen's footsteps, and he was trying to keep his hands warm at the blueish flame of a Zippo. The boy was bareheaded and Helen saw how his coat was too tight at shoulders.

Maybe the boy felt Helen's eyes on him, or maybe it was by a chance when he looked away from the lighter flame. His hazel eyes met Helen's ice-blue ones just for a second, then the boy looked down again, biting his lower lip. But that second was enough for Helen to identify her student.

"Samuel," she said gently, hoping not to scare the boy. "Darling, it is late, and you're just frozen. What are you doing here at this time, all alone? You are not lost, are you?"

Helen did not hear the ashamed words Samuel muttered, so she asked him to repeat his words.

"I know this is silly," Samuel repeated, articulating more clearly now, "but I wanted a Christmas... When my brother fell asleep I sneaked here to see the lights and shop windows. I ... I should probably go back. Excuse me, Miss Jones. "

"There is no need to apologize, hon, you have done nothing wrong. Have you walked all the way up here? Bareheaded, and without mittens, in this weather! Even your hair is wet, I bet that when you left it was still snowing," Helen said, frowning. "Is everything ok in your home?"

Sam nodded but was careful not to look his teacher in the eye. "Everything is fine. I just think my brother doesn't like Christmas that much and my dad is not home," he answered, then breathed into his hands to give them a little warmth. He had already shut off his Zippo and carefully hid it in his jacket.

Helen felt sad for her student. Sam was only fourteen years old and was practically left alone with his brother who was only a few years older that Sam and, according the rumors, not suitable to take care of youngsters. Helen nearly shook her head in concern.

"Sam," she said instead, "let me call your brother to pick you up. You can not walk alone to the motel, not when it is as late and cold as it is. The sky is starry and the weather is getting colder by the minute."

Sam shook his head, still not taking his eyes off the ground. "It wouldn't do any good. When I left Dean didn't woke when I shook him, and even if you got him awake he shouldn't drive. I came here by myself, I can get back by myself."

Helen frowned on that, realizing her own expression only after Sam continued: "Don't be too hard on him," he said, his eyes meeting Helen's. "When I was little Dean always tried to do something nice to us at Christmas, even when dad wasn't at home. It must have been awfully hard for him, maybe that's why he hates Christmas. Or maybe he remembers Christmases before mom died and is just sad."

Helen could not make herself believe that anything justified taking Christmas away from a fourteen year old boy but she did not want to argue with Sam. The boy, usually a very silent one, had told something about his family, which was something he rarely did. Helen wanted to honor his views, even when she didn't share them.

"Sam," Helen said, "would you like to come to me to visit? Looks like a cup of hot chocolate and a plate full of turkey, cranberry sauce and a little pudding for dessert would do good to you. At least that would get you warm and maybe we would figure out how to get you home so that you won't have to walk all the way."

Helen saw Sam was hesitant, but eventually agreed. "Thank you, Miss Jones," he said softly, and breathed on his hands again. "If you don't live too far, I'll visit."

"Please call me Helen," she said, and felt how the corners of her mouth formed a small smile. "I live nearby. But I must warn you, my grandmother is visiting and she can sometimes be a little weird. She is over ninety years old, and a very sweet old lady, but she often gets lost in her youth. Sometimes it can be a bit spooky."

Sam just nodded, and he and Helen walked together to her home.

Helen Jones lived in a small but comfortable apartment alone, if one did not count her beloved Pekingese, Iodine. As usual, the dog greeted enthusiastically his owner and the visitor. Little did Iodine care of Laura Jones, Helen's grandmother, who tried to forbid him from licking Sam's face.

Helen introduced Sam and Laura to each other. Sam found Laura to be a pleasant old woman who had wise eyes that, despite ailments the old age had brought with itself, twinkled with laughter. Her feet were firmly on the ground, both literally and figuratively, and she enjoyed greatly little things like knitting and cooking.

She promised to make late dinner for Sam and Helen, and even let Sam help her. She watched closely Sam's well-meaning attempts and then exclaimed: "Dear Lord, boy! Who taught you to make food?"

Sam's cheeks grew red. "My brother, mostly," he muttered in response. "And he is kind of self-taught and many of his attempts have been, um, interesting."

Laura chuckled. "Ah, brothers. I should have guessed. When you let a brother in a kitchen the whole place will soon look like a bomb went off. I know all about brothers, you see, I have five of them myself, and I've seen a bomb or two, too. I in fact my late husband worked with bombs when he was with the army... Manufactured, tested and dismantled. Oh, those were the days, good years! He often took me to see the explosions... That was something to see! Once - "

Helen carefully coughed to interrupt Laura, her wrinkled face wearing a slightly embarrassed. "Let me show you, dear," she said, forcing memories back. "This way. Slowly, calmly."

Soon after, the trio ate a late-night Christmas meal in Helen's living room. Laura had request Sam light all the candles in the room, so that the only source of light weres the candles and the gentle glitter of Christmas lights. The atmosphere was warm and calm, and Iodine walked continuously around the table in the hope of treats. Sometimes someone slipped a small piece food to him, thinking that others did not notice.

The meal was tasty and the table's discussion dominated by Laura's recollection of the past. Since Sam didn't want to explain his day, it suited just well, and even Helen had to laugh when Sam got Laura to tell stories she hadn't heard before.

After the meal, Sam and Helen took the dishes to the kitchen. Sam offered to do the dishes but Helen told him she'd rather see him in the living room, where were Helen, Laura, a TV and full boxes of chocolate waiting to be eaten. He agreed, and soon Helen found an old but touching Christmas movie. Laura dug out a pair of socks she was knitting and asked Sam to help her with tangled yarn.

Laura's knitting needles were clicking and chocolate wrappings got crackling. Iodine slept in his basket and Helen was slightly moved by the movie. Sam didn't felt like an outsider and he would have liked to stay longer. How could he want to miss something like this! But the hands of Helen's wall clock told him it was past the midnight. He should have already left.

When the film ended, Laura yawned loudly. She had put the knitting needles away a while ago and Sam thought she had napped a bit during the movie. It was his time to go back to the motel, to the worn furniture and to his hopefully still sleeping brother.

When Sam announced he was leaving, Helen shook her head. "It is past midnight," she remarked, "and even colder than before. It is quite a way to your motel and there are no buses running. You could sleep here, I can make a bed for you."

"Thank you," Sam answered quietly, "but I really need to go. I don't want to be a bother to you."

"How about if I called a cab? You wouldn't have to walk," Helen suggested, but wasn't surprised when Sam shook his head and explained he had no money for a cab, and he couldn't let Helen pay it for him.

Helen sighed, and quietly left to the hall without saying a word. She returned soon and handed a hat, a scarf and warm mittens to Sam.

"I'd give them for you to keep," she said, "but I know that you won't let me. I am sure you can borrow them, though. You can give them back to me when the school starts again."

Sam hesitated a moment but nodded. "Thank you. I promise that I will not lose anything."

Helen followed Sam to the hall, inspiring curious Iodine to follow them. When Sam tied his shoes the dog tried to lick his face again and played with his shoe laces. Sam just laughed and patted his head.

"If you want to, I can make a bed for you on the couch," Helen suggested again, but as she had assumed, Sam refused the offer.

"Thank you, Helen, but I really have to go home," he said. "If I am not at home when Dean wakes up, he'll freak for sure. I should have left earlier but it was so fun. And you know, I'm really glad I came. I'd be glad even if Dean did wake up and yelled at me so loud half of the city woke up."

Helen nodded with a smile, even when she still wasn't sure she liked this Dean, who drank himself to sleep on Christmas Eve and "freaked" if Sam did not obey him.

"Take care of yourself, Sam," she said, hesitating a moment before she continuing: "Remember that if something goes wrong I'm here. You can come and talk to me after class, or here in home, if you need help."

"Thank you," Sam replied with a smile, and slipped to the cold weather, wearing Helen's scarf around his neck, her mittens in his hands and a mossy green hat on his head.

Later, when Sam crept back to the motel in a small dark room, he hid the borrowed clothes and covered his brother with a blanked, a gentle smile on his face.

In the comfort of her own home, Helen Jones was still engrossed in her thoughts. She wondered how a society that called itself civil could let it's weakest live a miserable life, how children paid for their parents' mistakes, and how no one got what they earned. When she let her thoughts wander to innocent victims of various kinds of horror, it was already very late and Laura Jones told her to go to sleep and stop acting like an old lady.


	2. Epilogue

Epilogue

During the days that followed Christmas Eve, Helen walked the streets of the town center, looking for Samuel. She didn't see a trace of him, which made her happy and worried at the same time. She was glad that Sam didn't have to walk around the cold winter streets, but she was worried because she was half expecting to see the quiet student of hers admiring the miracle of Christmas as presented in the colorful shop windows.

Helen's concern was certainly not reduced by the fact that dire coldness that had arrived at Christmas Eve refused to wane. Breath misted in the cold winter air and even the birds, the ones who stayed in the north every winter, shivered on the branches of trees. Under one tree, Helen Helen even found a sparrow that had frozen to death. That night she slept cried herself to sleep, thinking of all the children in the world who needed help.

Next morning, when she arrived to breakfast, her eye were swollen and red-rimmed, making Laura Jones call her an old sentimental fool.

In time holy days ended. It was time to resume the routine, even when school children's and Helen's Christmas break continued a little longer. During that free time Helen took the Christmas tree out, packed the decorations neatly in their boxes and put in the freezer what was left of the turkey.

One day, when Helen was buying a packet of minced meat for Iodine from a small corner shop, she saw her quiet student for the last time. Sam was with his brother, almost hiding behind his back when he carelessly tossed in the cart snack bars, potato chips and energy drinks - everything that, in Helen's opinion, shouldn't be fed to the growing children. Neither of the boys had not noticed her,

which was why she, perhaps childishly, hid behind a box of cereal and pretended to be reading the product description very carefully.

From behind the cereal box, Helen watched how the boys joked and laughed, slowly proceeding towards the checkout. Dean almost emptied the candy shelf crate, and Helen didn't remember ever having heard Sam laughing so much. Sam still sounded like he was about to choke his laughter when Dean started to empty the cart to the shopping belt. Suddenly he seemed to remember something.

"Sammy," he said, eyes still twinkling, "grab a sixpack, for the evening. It will be a long drive and I'll need it when we get there."

Sam nodded and became more serious, but only slightly. Nimble steps carried him to fetch the desired item and when he returned, he practically walked into Helen. She took her eyes away from the cereal box to meet Sam's gaze and she was convinced that the boy was about to say something. He didn't have the time, though, because his brother's amused voice from the checkout called him.

"Sammy, are you trying to kill your brother to old age?"

Sam nodded to Helen, smiling a bit apologetic smile. Without saying a word the boy rushed to the checkout, where the shop assistant was already taking the prices.

Helen, who had completely forgotten Iodine's minced meat, grabbed the cereals and moved to checkout. She saw the boys putting the purchased items into Sam's backpack, then move out, where it was snowing again. After a while she heard the roar of an old car starting, then the roar turned into low purring under older Winchester's touch. Soon the black monster disappeared into the blizzard.

Later, a few weeks after the headmaster had let Helen know that Samuel Winchester was changing schools after Christmas, she got a small mail order package. She was a tad surprised – she was not expecting a package from anyone – but she opened it anyway. When she saw her hat, scarf and mittens, her astonishment deepened even further. Wrapped in a scarf was a plate of chocolate, as well as a short message written in Sam's handwriting.

_Thank you for the loan, __the Christmas that we shared, and the fact that you care. I am okay but our new history teacher isn't nearly as not as good as you are. Happy New Year!_

_-Sam W._

Helen folded the paper and placed it carefully in her wallet. In the next few weeks, months and years Helen Jones forgot Samuel Winchester, piece by piece. As a result, the voice of her conscience grew more and more quiet. For years after she buried Laura Jones and merry little Iodine, she continued as a history teacher in the small town, but ended up doing nothing special for children in need.


End file.
